After spending most of his down time in Park Jihoon’s company, Kuanlin finally managed to convince himself that Jihoon’s grumbly, uproarious stomach was in fact alive and had a mind of its own.

Not only could it rumble loud enough for him to locate a hungry Jihoon from miles away, but it also had an uncanny, and rather unnerving ability to growl at him exactly at noon, as if to demand a proper refill after having been left empty one second too long.

 “Can’t we go out there, just for a while?” Jihoon asked, peeping gingerly through the keyhole. “I doubt it’d hurt to snap a picture or two.”

“I can’t let you do that, hyung,” Kuanlin exclaimed, pulling Jihoon by the waist and away from the door. “Remember what happened when I gave in last time? A single picture turned into fifty, and I almost had to cart you out of there myself before either of us could get stampeded.”

“But I’m famished,” Jihoon whined. “And I could almost compose a full-length song with all these peculiar noises my tummy’s been making.”

“Didn’t you order double helpings of Jisung-hyung’s breakfast special, this morning?” Jinyoung asked. “The ‘Park Jihoon is a Pancake Monster’ one. Where’d all of that go?”

“Down the toilet,” Jihoon deadpanned. “I may have ordered one milk drink too many.”

 “You have?” Jinyoung asked, lousily pretending as if he’d gotten surprised. “Well, that’s surprising. Would never have expected that at all.”

“Jihoon does love his food,” Daehwi added, not bothering to ride in with Jinyoung’s self-evident display of flat-out contempt. “More than anything.”

 “Hey!” Jihoon retorted. “Now that just isn’t true.”

“Oh right,” Daehwi backtracked. “My bad. There is one thing you love more than food.”

“You’re about to say ‘free food’ aren’t you?” Jihoon huffed irately. “What else is there?”

“I was about to say Kuanlin,” Daehwi teased. “But I guess free food, works too.”

Jihoon blushed palpably at the mention of Kuanlin’s name, performing the world’s fastest about-face in the other direction. “What… what is that supposed to mean…”

“It means what it means,” Jinyoung said. “That you’re in love with our dearest maknae, and you’ve lost enough sleep in fretting over your first date, that you’ve gone and developed those dreadful under-eye bags that kind of make you look like the embodiment of an eternally pissed-off raccoon.”

“And that was the lengthiest run-on sentence I’ve ever heard,” Jihoon muttered under his breath. “Thanks, Jinyoung-ah. I love how you point out my flaws at random, for god knows what reason.”

Jinyoung simpered at him, utterly pleased with himself. “Well, we certainly aren’t best friends for nothing.”

As Kuanlin observed their easy banter, and the way Daehwi giggled along with their tongue-in-cheek antics, he couldn’t help but feel as if something had changed in their overall dynamic. The suffocating tension that accompanied every discussion on severed friendships, romantic exploits, and troubled times gone by, had begun to make way for an atmosphere of ease and familiarity, as if the walls they’d built around each other had fissured and dismantled into sand underfoot.

But a part of Kuanlin knew the euphoria would all but last forever, so he held staunchly onto each blissful moment and every precious memory, praying with all his might for their friendship to stay alive.

 “Alright then,” Minhyun spoke up, delivering Kuanlin from his momentary head trip. “So we’ve established the, uhm… relevant fact that Jihoon can’t live without his hourly snack break, and now that it’s been almost an hour since we got here, he’s about to go through food-shortage withdrawals in seventeen minutes tops. But I digress. We’ve got to do something about that bloody performance song.”

“This was a lot harder than I thought,” Jaehwan pointed out. “How have we managed to come up with zero title track alternatives over a forty-three minute time span?”

“Who knows,” Sungwoon said, breathing in a sigh of despair. “I chalk it up to our unparalleled teamwork.”

“It’s because we haven’t eaten,” Jihoon insisted. “I’m almost sure of it.”

“Instead of suggesting songs right off the bat,” Daniel advised, his inner Council President kicking in temporarily. “Why not brainstorm on possible concepts first? It’s easier to narrow down a list of alternatives once we’ve settled once and for all upon a singular type of sound.”

He looked around the room, waiting for any one of them to step up with a recommendation. Kuanlin watched as Daniel’s eyes rested for a moment upon Ha Sungwoon, nudging him slightly to urge him on.

Sungwoon ignored Kuanlin’s ceaseless jabbing against his side, turning instead to the person sitting by his immediate line of sight. “Any bright ideas, Seongwoo-ya?”

Seongwoo pointed to himself, baffled by Sungwoon’s unforeseen call-out.

“I, uhm… well. A flower boy concept, maybe?” he suggested.

Kuanlin grimaced, unable to picture an innocent, boyish Seongwoo without wanting to throw the concept out the window.

“I don’t think either of us fit in with that,” Daniel retorted, reinforcing Kuanlin’s internal monologue. “You more than anyone.”

“Then a y concept?” Seongwoo proposed, taking Daniel’s concerns into heartfelt consideration.

Daniel shook his head, pointing in Kuanlin, Jihoon, Jinyoung, Daehwi and Woojin’s general direction. “I’d be up for it, but these five are underage,” he explained. “And Jisung-hyung will kill me if I let this slip. You know how protective mother hen is of his babies.”

Creases appeared along Seongwoo’s forehead, and Kuanlin could tell from where he was seated that Seongwoo was starting to get a little agitated. “Then how about a fresh, summery concept?”

“Sure but… it’s almost winter in Korea,” Daniel reminded him. “Anything less…seasonal, perhaps?”

“Ugh,” Seongwoo groaned. “Fine, then. A girl group concept.”

“YES!” Daehwi chimed in, b with excitement. “I like that idea.”

Daniel shook his head furiously to either side. “No, Daehwi-ya. I’m not ready to trade in the final shred of my respectability for an A-1 performance that’s sure to get us trending on every Korean news outlet out there.”

“And not necessarily for good reason,” Woojin shivered. “You up for a girl group concept, Kuanlin-ah?”

Kuanlin blinked at Woojin, dismally unprepared. “Were you, uh… asking to see my aegyo?”

“Nevermind,” Woojin said. “If it’s as embarrassing as Minhyun-hyung’s, then no. I’m supremely disinterested in volunteering to put myself through that variant of torture.”

“Anything else you might have up that sleeve?” Sungwoon asked, turning to Seongwoo for further help. “Sorry, my mind’s been emptied of anything that doesn’t remotely involve figuring out the exact coordinates of Jisung’s location. He should’ve arrived here ten minutes ago.”

“Bad boy concept.” Seongwoo forged on.

“Over-used,” Daniel said, shutting the suggestion down immediately. “Next.”

“Melodramatic concept.”

“Too early.”

“Playful concept.”

“Too safe.”

“Dance concept.”

“Too risky.”

“Billionaire hot daddy concept.”

“I…what?”

 “Daniel-is-annoying-and-unhelpful concept.”

“What, why’s that?” Daniel exclaimed, utterly offended. “How is it my fault that your ideas are twice as lame as you are?”

“Did someone say ‘Twice’?” Daehwi interjected. “Because I’d love to perform a cover of—“

“Daehwi, darling,” Sungwoon interrupted, caressing the back of Daehwi’s head much too forceful for a gesture so affectionate. “You’re amazing, and I love you, truly, but the rest of us aren’t sassy enough to pull off such thing.”

“Yeah,” Woojin agreed. “And can you imagine these guys dancing to Signal?” he cocked his head towards Kuanlin, Jinyoung, and Minhyun, the agreed-upon holy trinity of masculine charm. “The thought alone is enough for me to lose my appetite, and I am not about that life. Not until Jisung-hyung arrives here with food in tow.”

“That’s it,” Jihoon said, getting on his feet before any of them could scramble after him. “I want my food, and if that means I’d have to run out there and—“

At that precise moment, the door to the Imugi practice room burst open, the ten of them waiting with bated breaths for whoever it was that might’ve been making his way through that entrance.

Jisung’s head poked out from behind it as he shuffled hastily into the room, escorted by a much taller, lankier, and notably more baby-faced high-school student. Both of them settled heavy paper bags onto the floor, looking as if they’d managed to only just narrowly escape from a riot.

“I don’t understand,” Jisung mumbled to himself. “How can I keep this place up and running, if customers would rather pay for my autograph than my café cuisine?”

“Is that food?” Jihoon inquired, eyeing the contents of Jisung’s paper bag expectantly.

The scent of stir-fried pork and sautéed vegetables wafted lightly through the air, making even Kuanlin’s mouth water as it hungered for food.

 “Wait a minute,” Minhyun spoke up, gaze drifting to the student Jisung had come with. The guy in question was crouched by the floor next to Kuanlin, extracting microwavable lunchboxes from the paper bag he’d brought in himself. Their eyes met for a brief moment, his face breaking into a hauntingly familiar smile.

Where have I seen this guy before? He thought for a moment.

Oh, yeah. I think I’ve seen him in the mirror.

“Is this your twin?” Jaehwan asked, perplexed. “Or is my vision trippy, for some odd reason? I think I’m seeing double.”

“What are you doing in here?” Minhyun demanded. “Seonho-ya, you can’t just walk in on other groups in the middle of practice!”

“We were in the middle of practice?” Woojin asked. “Funny, just a while ago we were in the middle of staring blankly into space as a form of recreation.”

“Sorry about that,” Seonho apologized. “But I’d been informed of Jisung-hyung’s need for a little assistance, since he’s much too skinny to lug around eleven sets of packed bokkeum before his arms tragically detach themselves from the rest of his torso.”

“Sounds painful,” Daehwi frowned. “But aren’t you the guy Kuanlin had his interview with?”

“Oh, it’s you!” Kuanlin exclaimed, having managed to recall his first meeting with Seonho thanks to Daehwi’s superior facial recognition capabilities. “That’s why you looked strangely familiar.”

Seonho’s face had been ridden with layers upon layers of makeup back then, so Kuanlin had to do a double-take before fully recognizing Seonho’s bare, unmade-up countenance.

“You remember me, huh?” Seonho beamed, offering Kuanlin a bro-fist and a shoulder bump. “I remember you! You’re that swaggy rapper friend of exotic overseas origins.”

Seonho threw himself into Kuanlin’s arms then, pulling him into a stifling hug. “How’ve you been?”

Kuanlin’s hands floated in mid-air for an awkward moment, wondering whether or not to return the intimate gesture.

A sinister, Jihoon-shaped aura emanated powerfully from behind him, his hands falling to his sides in one swift, hypersonic motion. “H-hi. I’ve been fine, Seonho-ya. Our team effort’s been stellar lately, and that’s why we’ve yet to make even the slightest bit of progress since we got here.”

“Aww, how come?” Seonho asked, releasing Kuanlin from his death hug. “You need help somewhere?”

“What, no,” Minhyun exclaimed, horrified. “You’re part of a rival group, so we can’t have you polluting our concept pool this early on.”

“Let’s hear him out, hyung,” Woojin suggested. “Why turn down voluntary information?”

“I think not,” Jihoon quipped. “Something tells me this guy’s repertoire warrants a host of ideas we’d rather not hear.”

“That’s not true,” Seonho argued, indignant. “You’re looking for a concept unique enough to captivate the audience, am I right? Then what about something never-before seen onstage, in the entirety of idol-search history?”

“There’s no such thing,” Jaehwan countered. “The record of this industry’s gotten pretty much every genre covered from start to finish.”

“I can think of one you might never have considered,” Seonho said, eyebrows wiggling at them playfully.

“And what is that?” Kuanlin asked him, genuinely eager to find out.

“Nursery rhymes,” Seonho declared. “In animal onesie outfits.”

“RED ALERT,” Daniel exclaimed, fighting to be heard through the collective groaning. “This guy’s even worse than you are, Hong Seongwoo.”

“Thanks,” Seongwoo replied. “I don’t mind being dethroned in that regard, to be honest.”

“If you think your idea’s so brilliant,” Woojin said. “Then perform a sample nursery rhyme for us so we know what sort of madness it is that you’re going for.”

“You might be surprised,” Seonho said, chest puffing out in a bold display of self-assurance. “At how stunningly breath-taking my performance will be for you.”

“Yeah sure,” Woojin said, skeptical to the very last bone. “I’m listening.”

Seonho fixed himself into a standing position, limbs outstretched. He in a deep breath, and Kuanlin watched on in anticipation as Seonho’s sugar-sweet singing voice echoed throughout the practice room.

“Cluck cluck yellow chick,” Seonho began, dancing around with both hands against his waist, as if to emulate the clucking movements of Seonho-sized poultry. “Moo moo brown calf, bang bang bang bang hunter, quack quack quack quack white duck.”

Kuanlin’s mouth flew open, slack-jawed in awe.

“Ribbit ribbit green frog, pin pin pin pin lobster, prrrr water grass… dadadada shell!”

A wave of silence overtook the room, every single member of Seonho’s unsuspecting audience rendered speechless by his startling performance.

The thunderous sound of Jisung’s heavy applause broke through the awkward reticence, shaking Kuanlin out of his stupor.

“Wonderful, Seonho-ya!” he cheered. “Thank you for the modernized rendition of ppiyak ppiyak byeongari. Let’s never do that again, shall we? Now then, why don’t we all go ahead and unpack this bokkeum so we can finally have our mealtime together?”

“Ehem,” Jaehwan coughed, gesturing slightly towards Jihoon sitting quietly to the side, already stuffing his face with absurd helpings of pork belly and rice.

“YAH, PARK JIHOON!” Jisung screeched. “You can’t cheat like that and have your lunch before the rest of us!”

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon shrugged. “But you can’t have expected me to just sit around in the presence of such sweet-smelling meat. Besides, it’s worked to my favour in the end, since I was much too distracted by the tenderloin to pay any heed to that aegyo storm.”

“Hyung,” Seonho called out, leaning in slightly towards Kuanlin to whisper rather indiscreetly into his ear. “I think he doesn’t like me very much. Why’s that?”

“Don’t worry,” Kuanlin said, watching and waiting his turn as Jisung distributed the lunchboxes around. “The brightness of Jihoon-hyung’s mood is directly proportional to the fullness of his stomach, so judging by the rate at which he tears through that pork… I wager he’ll return to his cheerier self in no time.”

 “Is that so?” Seonho said, beaming at Kuanlin. “I thought it might’ve been because he’s envious of how chummy we’re being at the moment.”

“Well, aren’t you the intuitive one?” Jinyoung said, grinning proudly at Seonho. “I like you already, kid.”

He reached out to pat Seonho’s head, but Daehwi intercepted him mid-way, pulling at his arm to divert it’s movement towards his own mop of hair.

“No,” Daehwi said, pouting angrily. “I go first.”

Jinyoung broke into a pleasant smile, patting Daehwi’s head affectionately. “Guess you take after Jihoon-hyung’s jealous streak, too.”

“Here you go,” Woojin said, holding out the bokkeum Jisung had asked him to apportion to each of his dongsaengs. He turned to Seonho, giving him a quick once-over. “And you, kid, haven’t you eaten?”

“I have,” Seonho assured him. “And though I wish I could stay a while, I’ve got somewhere else to be in a few minutes.”

“Is it practice?”Jaehwan inquired. “Have you picked out a song?”

“We sure have!” Seonho grinned, flashing Jaehwan a thumbs-up in a gesture of affirmation. “I guess now, the only thing that’s left for us to do is to hash out the finer details and schedule a consultation with NU’EST W.”

“You’re under them too, huh?” Minhyun said, a melancholy smile passing through his features. “Have fun with that, then.”

“I still wish you could’ve debuted with them, hyung,” Seonho said, sadly. “Though I’m sure you’ll find a new home in this group, too.”

“We’ve got a lot left to work on,” Minhyun replied. “Beginning with not wasting an hours’ worth of practice on useless chatter.”

“Don’t worry,” Seonho assured him. “I’m sure one of you will come across a of genius soon enough. And when that happens…” Seonho trailed off, breaking slowly into an excited grin. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see the magic happen once the show hits the road.”

“Where are you off to, next?” Kuanlin asked, digging earnestly into a slice of pork. “Am I allowed to pay you a visit?”

“Sure,” Seonho said. “Justin and Jungjung-hyung have been dying to meet you.” His gaze slid sideways to where Jihoon was seated, eyeing him warily. “Though I don’t suppose he’d be against the suggestion.”

Kuanlin smiled, wrapping an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, he won’t mind. Aren’t I right, hyung?”

Jihoon nodded subconsciously, as he’d wiped his lunchbox clean of Jisung’s exquisite cooking and had wasted no time in moving on to dessert. Kuanlin stared in wordless fascination at Jihoon’s mouth as it bit restlessly into his chocolate bar, the sticky caramel thinning out like taffy as Jihoon pulled at the snack with his teeth. Some of it had gotten stuck by the side of his chin, and before Kuanlin could even take full control of his own body, it had already moved of its own shameless volition to away the chocolate dotting Jihoon’s face.

In record time, Jihoon’s face reddened into a vibrant, russet color, his motor functions failing him momentarily as he dropped the bar of chocolate in both hands. Kuanlin’s hand reflexively extended outwards, nabbing the snack by its wrapper before it could hit the dusty floor.

Jisung gaped at the pair of them, floored by the emboldened gesture.

“Where… where’d you learn that from?” he demanded, scouring the room for any signs of liability. His eyes landed upon Seongwoo, narrowing dangerously into slits. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”

“I’ve got nothing to do with any of this,” Seongwoo countered. “Though I could probably learn a thing or two from him, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

Kuanlin smiled, watching in amusement as they quibbled restlessly over minor details.

He looked to Jihoon, who was staring blankly at the piece of floor between his legs. Kuanlin reached out to his cheek affectionately, turning Jihoon’s head slightly at the chin as he spoke.

“You won’t look at me, hyung,” Kuanlin observed. “Are you mad?”

Jihoon shook his head, reaching for the hand Kuanlin touched him with. He yanked at it lightly for it to rest upon his lap, interlacing their fingers in slow, deliberate motions until Kuanlin could almost feel how Jihoon trembled as soft, feverish skin brushed tenderly against his own.

“I’ve no idea,” Jihoon whispered. “How much more of this I can handle.”

“That’s Jihoon’s way of saying he’s weak against your flirtatious advances,” Jinyoung whispered, leaning in slightly. “So take it easy, big guy. Or else he’ll burst at the seams and splatter all over you.”

“Why did that sound so ual?” Seongwoo said, a hand clasping around his mouth.

Jinyoung glared at him, scandalized. “It was a metaphor, not an innuendo!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Daniel said, bonking Seongwoo lightly upside the head. “He thinks the upwards curvature of bananas are ual.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Jisung announced. “Seonho-ya, you’d better leave this place right this instant. We can’t have these guys tainting your soul when it’s as pure as driven snow.”

“Got it,” Seonho said, already blushing at the ears. “I’ll see you when I see you!”

He made haste for the door, shuffling towards the exit as fast as his limbs could carry him.

“Will he be okay, out there?” Jaehwan wondered. “Ah, well. Guess we’ll find out in a week’s time.”

 “That Seonho guy,” Woojin spoke up. “was disgustingly cute. I want to adopt him and feed him sweets until he’s fat and happy.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure babies can’t raise other babies.”

“Okay then,” Woojin said, retracting his statement. “I’ll wait two years, then.”

“I don’t get it,” Kuanlin remarked, his head tilting slightly to the side in perfect mimicry of Daehwi’s puppy-dog gesture. “You’re turning twenty in four months. Why wait two years?”

“I’m waiting,” Woojin shrugged. “For a stable career with health insurance benefits.”

Oh,” Kuanlin said, nodding in approval. “Responsible parenting. I like that.”

Jihoon groaned, burying his head in the palms of both hands. “You aren’t planning on entertaining Woojin’s useless drivel, are you?”

“Why not?” Kuanlin shrugged. “Woojin-hyung’s fun to be around. His humor’s grown on me, too.”

“His humor,” Jihoon argued. “Is broken beyond feasible repair.”

Woojin snorted. “And Jihoon’s humor is but a figment of the imagination.”

“Sometimes, I think,” Jihoon complained. “You were put in my life for the sole purpose of testing my patience.”

“Aww, is this the part where you say you like me, anyway?” Woojin asked, batting his eyelashes and shoving Jihoon to the side with his elbow, until Jihoon toppled off-kilter and into Kuanlin’s waiting arms. “I like you too, you .”

“Ugh,” Jihoon grunted, nose turning up in mock disgust as he struggled to regain his balance. “In your dreams, lover boy.”

At that precise instance, a lightbulb moment hit Kuanlin, sure as lightning. He turned to Jihoon still floundering about in his arms like a fish out of water, pushing him slightly away to help him back into his earlier position.

“That’s it,” he exclaimed. “That’s exactly it!”

“What’s ‘it’?” Daehwi asked, perplexed. “Have you managed to come up with something?”

“Yeah,” Kuanlin nodded eagerly. “I think I’ve found the perfect concept, thanks to Jihoon-hyung.”

He smothered Jihoon in as tight a hug as he could muster. “Thank you, hyung. You’re the absolute best.”

Jihoon tapped at his shoulder in frenzied motions, his beating heart pounding heavily against Kuanlin’s chest as he gasped for air.

“That hug,” Daehwi observed. “Is breath-taking. Literally.”

Kuanlin released Jihoon then, apologetic. “Sorry, hyung. I got excited.”

“So you’ve figured it out, huh?” Seongwoo exclaimed, beaming at him. “You’re a genius, Kuanlin-ah!”

Daniel turned to Seongwoo, his expression anywhere between wanting to toss him out the back door and kissing him until he ran out of breath. “How can you say that, you Ongcheongie? We haven’t even heard the idea.”

Seongwoo shrugged animatedly. “You really think he could come up with anything worse than my lame- suggestions?”

Daniel stared at him for a solid ten seconds. “You’re a genius Kuanlin-ah!” he decided. “So, uhm… what’s the bright idea?”

“Just as Jihoon-hyung’s mentioned,” Kuanlin explained, beaming proudly. “A ‘lover boy’ concept.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” Minhyun asked. “I don’t think I heard you well enough. Did you just say ‘lover boy’?”

Kuanlin nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s about falling in love for the very first time, and not knowing what to do or how best to express yourself.”

“I get it,” Daehwi said, smiling cheerfully at Kuanlin as he spoke. “The fans are our first loves, aren’t they? That’s why the song is for them. It’s a way for us to communicate our feelings to the audience, where words fall short through the power of music.”

“Sounds like half the songs already out there,” Jaehwan remarked. “I’d hate for our first official group performance to end up a generic, forgettable bore.”

“Then perhaps it’d work to mix this concept in with something different,” Seongwoo offered. “A more rebellious image, perhaps? An angrier sound as opposed to a mellow one.”

“Will a school boy concept work?” Jinyoung added, raising an eager hand. “Since we are, you know… school boys.”

“Wait a minute,” Jihoon said, his face lighting up with recognition. “I think I know where this is going.”

He unlocked his mobile device, flicking a thumb nimbly across the screen as he scrolled through his massive playlist.

He inserted the speaker jack into the analog socket, excitedly pressing play.

The chorus of an all-too-familiar song blared noisily through the room.

I’m getting nervous, I’m getting nervous
Who are you?
Are you that great?
Why do you keep teasing me?
Just stop now, hold up, hold up

Hold me tight before I kiss you
Before my heart lets you go
Say what you want
Say what you want
What is it that you really want?

“Yeah,” Kuanlin uttered. “I like it. The distinct, unruly sound.”

“I second that,” Daniel agreed. “It’s powerful, catchy… and it’s a hit by one of the most ubiquitous artists in the world. I’m sure a cover would garner lots of attention.”

“Funny how this song perfectly describes my situation,” Daehwi mused. “Our most of ours, now that I think about it.”

“I think we can all agree on this, then,” Jisung said. “We’re performing this song, so we should go over it a few times before seeking NU’EST W’s opinion.”

The ten of them nodded in unison, the first evident display of synergy since their arrival at the Imugi.

“Are all of us in love, though?” Jaehwan asked, counting them off with his fingers. “Jisung-hyung and Sungwoon-hyung have been together for a decade. Daehwi and Jinyoung are a buy-one-take-one deal these days. Daniel and Seongwoo-hyung bicker like an old married couple, and act like it’s the last day of  their honeymoon every other night. Jihoon and Kuanlin are stupidly infatuated with each other, and are about to go on their first date in a weeks’ time. As for Minhyun and I… well, I’ve agreed to date his lonely if I can’t manage to snag a girlfriend.”

“Excuse me,” Minhyun retorted. “But I don’t recall having made such an agreement.”

“Oh, forgive me,” Jaehwan said, grinning at him snidely. “I’ve agreed to date Minhyun’s lonely, drunken .”

“Jeez,” Sungwoon exclaimed. “Tone down on the alcohol, for once.”

“That’s rich,” Minhyun retorted. “Coming from the ambassador of convenience store soju and Jisung-hyung’s homemade hangover soup.”

“Wait a minute,” Woojin spoke up, remiss in his cognizance of having been omitted from the equation entirely. “Where do I fit into all of this? Am I the only one in here not romantically involved with anyone else?”

“Not really…” Jihoon began shyly.

“Pretty much.” Seongwoo confirmed.

“Soon enough, I guess.” Jinyoung said, blushing cherry red.

“You can have Jaehwan for free.” Minhyun offered.

“Ugh, no thank you,” Woojin said. “I’m not gay, in case you’d forgotten that was a possibility.”

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Kuanlin comforted, patting Woojin’s back reassuringly. “Somebody out there loves you.”

Woojin cast him a sullen look. “You mean my mother?”

“I, uhm…” Kuanlin trailed off. “Yeah, sure. Mothers are nice.”

“You’re not dating in secret, are you?” Daehwi asked, sizing up the unfamiliar, crescent moon necklace adorning Woojin’s neck. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you wearing that particular accessory before. Who gave that to you?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung agreed, leaning forwards to zero in on Woojin’s necklace. “Are those real diamonds studded around the pendant? That’s insane.”

“Where’d you get it from?” Jihoon inquired. “Because if you’ve been stealing from my piggy bank in secret…” Jihoon’s eyes narrowed at Woojin as he sliced a thumb haltingly across his neck.

Woojin moved slightly away from Jihoon, squinting at him distrustfully. “Chillax, you dumbo. I received this as a gift a couple of days ago.”

Jihoon blinked at him, puzzled. “Your birthday’s in November.”

“Congratulatory gift,” Woojin clarified. “For making it into the Idol Project. I received it from a fansite of mine.”

“You have fansites?” Jihoon asked. “You haven’t even made your debut!”

“And what of it?” Woojin shrugged. “Daniel-hyung’s had fansites since his eight-pack abs first saw the light of day.”

“Eight?!” Seongwoo exclaimed randomly. “I thought he had six! Have you been slacking off, Kang Daniel?”

“Ugh,” Daniel groaned. “I don’t know. I’ll let you do a recount later on, but that’s beside the point.”

“It’s nowhere near the point, actually,” Jinyoung observed. “Woojin-hyung, you aren’t just saying this to keep us from thinking you’re lonely, are you? There’s nothing wrong with being single, or spoiling yourself silly with overpriced jewelry, for that matter.”

“With whose money?” Woojin said. “Please. Jihoon knows I’m broke enough to eat cup ramen for dinner on a daily basis.”

“Well,” Daniel said. “You could be the chaebol heir to a multi-billion dollar company, for all we knew.”

“Okay, look,” Woojin said, extracting his phone from the depths of his pants pockets, thumbing hastily through his social media feed. “Here’s proof that I did receive it from her. Happy now?”

He handed his phone over to Jihoon as Daniel looked curiously over his shoulder.

“Ten thousand followers, huh?” Jihoon said. “With only footage of the auditions uploaded? That’s madness.”

“I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?” Woojin said. “And so is this fansite’s master-nim. The camera she’s using must be pretty high-tech for the pictures to come out this crisp and detailed, despite me having been in motion the entire time.”

“Now I wish I had one, too,” Kuanlin said wistfully. “A fansite. Those are pretty cool.”

“I’m sure all of us do,” Daniel assured him. “Though I don’t suppose we’re allowed to receive packages from any of them, at this point. I did confer with the principal regarding this matter, and I recall he’s mentioned having asked the guards to intercept incoming mail for the time being.”

He gestured towards Woojin. “I wonder how yours managed to slip through the system.”

“She might be a student at this school,” Minhyun opined. “Or the principal’s daughter. That works too.”

“Oh god,” Seongwoo muttered under his breath. “I don’t think I like where that train of thought’s leading me.”

“Why?” Daniel asked. “Anything wrong?”

“It’s just… the security breaching, the pricey trinkets… sounds like a pattern I’ve gotten familiar with.”

“Should I be worried then?” Woojin asked, sadly. “I do like this necklace, though. The design is right up my alley.”

“Don’t worry,” Seongwoo assured him. “We’re dealing with minor speculation at this point. Besides, you’ve been wearing that necklace for days, and so far you’re intact and unharmed, so I’m likely entirely mistaken. Don’t let your guard down, though. If you receive anything else, tell me about it.”

“The gift came solo,” Woojin told him. “The only other thing it came with was a card in smudged ink, and the only thing that read was ‘Congratulations on making it in, and good luck on your Idol Project journey. Love and well wishes from Moonshine’.”

 “Moonshine, huh?” Seongwoo repeated. “Doesn’t sound like an alias Chaerin would ever use. And the smudged ink? If she used a fountain pen, chances are she’s left-handed, which Chaerin isn’t if memory serves me right. But then again…”

“Who’s Chaerin?” Kuanlin asked. Over the weeks, he’d developed a certain vigilance against Seongwoo’s band of acquaintances, having caught on stories with regards to them, and the abnormal activity they’d been involved in through the years.  

“She isn’t a friend of yours, is she?” he asked warily.

“Of course not,” Seongwoo exclaimed, utterly appalled. “I’d rather a brick than befriend a lunatic. Don’t worry, though… She’s hardly a concern at this point, at least until I’ve located her and managed to verify that her ginormous crush on me’s been transferred to Woojin for some astounding reason.”

Woojin shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe she’s upped her standards.”

“Trust me,” Seongwoo said, tone heavily suffused with apprehension. “Once you find out how utterly unhinged a fan like Chaerin is, you’ll wish she never even ‘upper her standards’ in the first place.”

For individuals so undeniably intimidating, the members of NU’EST W were surprisingly short. Even Kang Dongho, who reminded Kuanlin of a grizzly bear for unidentified reasons, was almost half a head shorter than he was.

If they had a member like Hwang Minhyun, Kuanlin thought. The height average would be a little different.

And then he remembered he was freakishly tall, so he deleted the notion from his memory before he could unwittingly blurt out the unspeakable.

“You’ve done well, Kuanlin-ah,” Baekho told him. “These lyrics you’ve written into J-hope’s rap are pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Kuanlin said. “All I need to work on now is the delivery.”

“And your dancing,” JR reminded him. “You lag behind the others in terms of pick-up, so you’ll need a couple extra hours of practice on the daily.”

“Got it,” Kuanlin said, sighing heavily. They’d been learning the choreography to ‘Boy In Luv’ the whole morning, and JR had taken the lead in helping them out as NU’EST W’s main dancer.  More than once, he and Jaehwan had gotten called out for their failure to move in time with the beat, which had frustrated him as he’d begun working with Jihoon on the basics even before they arrived at the studio.

“It’s alright to feel lost,” Ren comforted him. “I’m like that too. But it would never hurt to work on triple overtime, or as much as is needed to master the song.”

“That way, your performance onstage will turn out more deliberate than it is mechanical,” Aron supplied. “Because you’re enjoying the movements and feeling the song, instead of working out the next step in your head as you go along. It does show, you know, and the audience won’t like it if they can sense your distraction.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim,” Kuanlin said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He took his seniors’ words to heart, jotting down a mental note of asking Jihoon to keep him company as he polished his footwork. Kuanlin was tired of feeling like dead-we